Sunday Evening. Part Infinitum.

I am drinking a glass of wine so rough that I could chew it, but it's necessary. Necessary because I just got my new Lucky Magazine in the mail and dear God, the eighties, and now the seventies, and dear God, the clothes are so UGLY RIGHT NOW! The Lucky fashion editors may not think of themselves as old, and I'm sure they are happy to return to a time (fashion-wise) which may hold many happy memories for them, but darlings, I was not even born in the seventies. By the time I was born, Ronald Reagan was already in office. I do not remember wide-legged jeans, I do not like vests, and LEATHER BACKPACKS? You're recommending leather backpacks? For the LOVE of GOD.

Anyway.

Also on the disappointment list: the LT and I watched The Sting and Laura this weekend--we chilled a lot this weekend, as we also watched Pearl Harbor, Van Helsing, and Cars--I now wear a size ten and not a six--and I was making a big deal of watching Laura because it's so classic film noir, very big deal at the time, all that, and we watched it and it's so...huh. Some good camera work. And of course Gene Tierney is great to watch. But...otherwise...well. Kind of slow. And really heavy on atmosphere. I'd seen it before, and remember liking it, but...well.

It's possible, also, that my 15 inch laptop didn't do it justice.